Cirque de Intrigue
by classydash
Summary: When the Great Depression forces Caroline to seek employment with a traveling circus, she has no idea that the world that is about to consume her is filled with lies, mystery and murder: and she winds up caught in the thick of it. Klaus is an animal trainer who only cares about his lions, yet somehow finds himself in the role of her protector, much to his chagrin. A/U


**Cirque de Intrigue**

Chapter 1: Brother, Can You Spare a Dime?

* * *

**April 14th, 1935. Cimarron County, Oklahoma.**

_What is it with all this dust nonsense?_

Rebekah didn't like it; it was getting in her hair, not to mention turning the perfect pitch black of her leotard a dastardly grey. Who gave it permission to do that? She certainly hadn't.

It was a nuisance and just that. Nothing more. Unfortunately, Rebekah had yet to devise a way to come out with the upper hand when it came to the sandy grit that was everywhere.

Including their lunch.

Have you ever tried to drink blood with sand in it?

Rebekah would have us know it was all too very much unpleasant, and she all but turned her lip up at the half-drained body that cooled, left in an abandoned heap.

Well, wasn't that ironic. Typically it was the veggies her siblings had to coax her to eat through disguised threats and constant said-to-be-good-for-her remainders.

She was ever the damned diva for that, stuck a girl on the verge of blooming womanhood. One of these days, her family would learn to stop treating her like a child, seemingly without realizing her own dramatic actions and stubborn protests were what earned her such treatment.

"Kol," she said while absently wiping at the crimson droplet that dripped from the corner of her lip. Rebekah, being on an ever contest quest for attention, waited for his before continuing. "It was your sadistic idea to feast off the reaps of depression! I could have been a show girl in Paris by now, or a Hollywood starlet," she stated wistfully before snorting in annoyance. "But_nooo_! I'm the star of nothing more grand then a giant blimey dust bowl!"

"Come on, Rebekah. We all know I'm the gorgeous one," Kol responded nonchalantly, with a shrug that seemed to suggest it should have been obvious. "If anyone is meant to become a star, naturally it would be me."

"Hah. Such a wiseass. Shouldn't you be practicing that fake magician's act instead of trying to compel me?" She shot back with sour twist to her face.

"Speaking of asses, yours could do to loose a few pounds," he demeaned with a smirk, aware that such a feat would be impossible.

A perk of being a vampire. _At least if you're as attractive as me_, he thought.

* * *

It was so _damn _dusty.

_Ladies shouldn't swear._ His voice rang in her head, ricocheting about with that parental note of guidance. It made her smile with the bitter bite of bloody angst.

But what did it matter? Who was left to hear?

She swore again, this time louder, cursing the winds with a silver lashing of tongue. It was freeing.

Her father would wash her mouth out for such language. But hells-fire! He wasn't close enough to hear. He'd left with the other migrant workers, incapable of sustaining themselves off eroded soil the earth taunted them with; turned out she was an unrelenting bitch, who apparently hadn't found their farming techniques up to her standards and so depression had struck the land dry, and with this drought of the century came great sacrifice.

The land had all but shriveled up, and with it the people—the spirit—became but a prune of what it used to be, the once fertile grounds now all dried out like a sour raisin. Or one of them date things; she'd always hated those—but chronic hunger had a way of eating through the distaste. _Go figure._

Most Okies, as they were frequently called, had left by now. Long gone. Abandoned their homes and herded their children along. Hightailed it to the coast, where water ran like gold and the entertainment industry soared. That was the thing about depression. Didn't matter if it was a place or a person; it drove people to escape. Ironically, it made her have hope.

There would always be a chance in entertainment, you see. A slim one, albeit, but a chance none the less. That was another thing about recession. It made that improbability of winning the lottery an alluring risk.

Her father had taken a more realistic approach.

Caroline could still remember the day Bill had left. It had been right near the middle of the night, but she'd heard the floors creak, as they tended to do more often than not these days, and had tip toed out of her bed to peek. Curiosity was a gnarly beast that way, an all consuming drive for knowledge that couldn't be denied.

He'd stood in the shadow of the entrance, dusty tan suitcase (she recalled it being leather and quite nice, save its myriad of canvas-cut patchwork that had obviously seen better days) in hand, with the look of guilt rendering him still, and when their eyes had locked, he'd held them but a moment, before ducking out like a coward (She'd hated him for that for so long), only pausing long enough to pluck his misshaped hat off the lonely hook on the wall and with it, he'd hidden his head.

And just like that, he'd left.

Without saying a word. Not a one.

Not even a good-bye.

Ever since then, It had been just her and her mother. Caroline had desperately tried to get her Ma to travel with her after that, find better water, but Liz had refused to move. Said she wouldn't abandon the home she'd grown up in. Something about a family legacy.

Caroline often imagined it was heartbreak, and that her mother was just waiting for Pa to come home, as though afraid of leaving; like it would mean they'd never see him again. It was like their house was her last way of holding on.

The wind picked up, carrying dust that offended the eyes and left them all teary and red. It whipped blonde tendrils wildly about, pulling free fly-a-ways from the messy braid's constraint, and flapped them about her face in an irksomely continuous pattern. Again she cursed, and again her vile words were lost in the thrashing air. The winds were strong this fine April morning; nearly stole her scarf many times!

On the horizon, the sky was darkened with thick masses that looked like rain clouds but weren't.

_Great_. Another dust storm. _Just what we need._

Liz had taken to fever just last week and was a frail, thin shell of what she used to be. Caroline missed the days when her mother had been strong, full of light and beautiful in her will to preserve. That was the woman she had looked up to as a role model.

That was the kind of woman Caroline wanted to be.

The kind strong enough to save her birth mama.

She wasn't about to let that woman die of malnutrition. Oh hell's no! Not when she had a plan—albeit a ridiculous one—join the damned circus and get a free ticket to show business!

Yet as she and Satin, the old skinny horse she led, approached the massive red and white tent that rippled violently in the wind but held firm in its intimidating stature, reality sank in.

Maybe this wasn't such a grand idea, after all.

* * *

"Girls, we need to get it together!" The tall, thin brunette turned away from the dressing room she'd just entered and faced her siblings who had both stepped in behind her with a stern, letdown frown. "That was our worst performance of the trapeze act yet."

The snarkiest of the lot rolled her hazel eyes (that should be noted to be a fraction darker than the other two's) and immediately redirected the blame. "Maybe if Elena wasn't so timid in her jumps, we'd actually put on a good show." Kat readjusted her girls, certain to keep them from popping out of the top of her costume, and smirked, cherry-painted pout smacking together in a disproving pop as she tossed a glare at the girl she often denied any relation to, identical appearance notwithstanding. "What have I told you about needing to sell it, hmm?"

Elena, the day-dreaming sort to always have her head in the clouds (so to speak), cast her gaze down, dejection paramount, and chewed on her lower lip doubtfully, half-consumed by guilt over ruining the show—again—and half-frustrated because she'd genuinely tried her best. It wasn't her fault she was the youngest and therefore roped into this endeavor her siblings were so competitively wrapped up in.

She'd never signed up for it and certainly wouldn't have for anything quite so thrilling.

Elena preferred bunkering down in a cozy corner with a hot cuppa and her moleskin journal. Frankly, she didn't know how Kat and Tatia could be so fearless. It was like they'd been born without the ability to feel pain. Sometimes, Elena felt nothing like them at all, perceiving herself to be very much alone in this world.

An ironic thought, that.

"Kat, quit that." Tatia demanded in that regal tone that screamed authority, casting a look in Katherine's direction that actually managed to shut her up (for the most part.) She still grumbled some nonsense or other under her breathe, but Tatia ignored her and proceeded with her diplomatic role as eldest—even if it was only by fifteen minutes. She never let the other two forget it. "It doesn't matter where the blame lies, only that we need to improve if we want to survive."

"Ugh! When will you cease with all that motivational hooplah?" Kat huffed and paid no heed—like a child would a telling off—and would have continued if she hadn't noticed Elena peeking out of their dressing room's curtain. Spurned into action by a strong hunch of just who held the meek girl's attention, she rushed to join her, smirking with pleasure when she discovered she was indeed right.

_Elijah._

"Girls!" Tatia started, about to get into the particulars of how it wasn't sisterly to fight over men—which was really only a cover for the horridly hypocritical fact that she liked to keep the few attractive blokes among the circus folk available.

For herself, that is.

However, before she could get a word out, Kat was cursing like a blasted sailor in such a harsh fashion that Tatia had to zip over to slap a hand on Kat's none-so-subtle lips. "Shhhh! Tact, Kat!"

Unfortunately, Katherine wasn't one to be muffled when she had something to say, and so she writhed and wiggled in such a fuss she managed to pry her mouth free, reaching this success with a particular sharp elbow to Tatia's gut. "Who does that harlot think she is!" Kat spat in green-eyed outrage. "Strutting in here with that bleached do' and woe-ways attitude. Ugh. Like he'd go for something so pathetic." Kat shoved into Elena, trying to get a better view. "Who gave this bitch permission to saunter in here all innocent-damn-doe like and set her sights on my fella anyway?"

Tatia rearranged her arms from Kat's lips and wound them tight as a slipknot around her feisty sister's waist instead. The eldest was possibly the cleverest of the lot—or at least the keenest—as in, nothing got past her. Especially not Kat's explosive mood swings. She practically considered it her civil duty to reign the siren in, before Kat's double dose of Petrova fire (explosively fueled by the middle child syndrome) really got them all in a boatload of trouble.

That, it would seem, was where her role as the responsible one ceased completely to exist.

Though she might have often donned the cloak of perpetual keeper of the peace between Katherine and Elena, Tatia wasn't without sass. "Your fella?" A warm rich chuckle followed, hearty in its amusement, with the note of mischief coloring her tone condescendingly devious. "Darling, you mustn't' forget; I had him first." Ever the hypocrite, (and not to mention the most shameless of the lot) the eldest Petrova couldn't help but inch back more of the sapphire velvet, joining in on the game of voyeuristically fawning over the handsome, well-spoken ringleader with her sisters.

Jealousy could not be denied.

Just as it would be a lie to deny she was cursorily sizing up the blonde whore by his side.

_That_, it seemed, _was_ something the triplets had in common.

In fact, it was the first time the sisters had agreed on _anything_ today.

Elijah was one fine fox of a man, and this bitch had better get in line.

* * *

Meanwhile ...

_This is it. It's now or never._

Caroline hesitated at the tent's flap after finding it to be closed—like they weren't currently taking any visitors today. _Strange_. The posters had called for a show this afternoon. She even pulled one out of her pocket all frantic.

Not that it mattered; this overachiever had to try all the same and so she crumbled it back up, but only after confirming she'd been right. At least she wasn't losing her mind.

Besides, the weary, desperate girl hadn't traveled this far to turn back now.

So she squared back her shoulders and hiked up that chin, clearing her own throat for mustered courage, and dove right in. Metaphorically, that is; in actuality, she carefully peeled back the remarkably heavy canvas flap and took a deep breath before ducking in, the skin and bones horse clip-clopping loyally behind her.

This place was mammoth. She reckoned they could seat half the county in the bleachers outlining the tent. While intimidating, it certainly hadn't appeared this spacious from the outside. Mesmerized, Caroline let her eyes drift back and forth across the various rings and stages, all outfitted to the spectacle with all sorts of props and equipment.

"Hello ...?" She called softly, to nothing and then, a bit louder, "Anyone here?" At first, Caroline thought she was alone and felt a twinge of panic take root. What would she do if no one was around? Thankfully, before her neurosis could jam into overdrive, a polite, richly accented voice rang out from behind her.

"Can I help you, child?" Elijah had watched her enter, but had remained out of sight until he'd determined whether this unexpected stranger posed a threat to his family or not. He figured the latter, after she jumped a good foot and a half and span around. All in the same ungraceful instance at the sound of his voice. They were hardly the actions of someone capable of maiming them. "It would appear I have startled you. Forgive my lack of tact." He didn't verbally question her presence here, but it would have been redundant anyway, given the cool distant way he sized her up with eyes that cut straight to the chase.

Like a man used to dictating control. He certainly held that regal, hard-to-ignore air about him, with his fine pressed suit and clean shaven face that positively oozed confidence. He struck an opposing figure, towering in absolute perfect posture. "If you're here for the show, miss, I'm afraid it's been postponed until tomorrow. Crazy weather we're having and all."

"Oh, uh, well, I am not exactly here for the show. I mean, I suppose sorta—" Rendered to rambling, Caroline stumbled over the speech she'd practiced a hundred times over, trying to garner together the courage it took to seek out employment.

_Well, nuts!_ This was harder than she'd fashioned the task in any of her obsessive mental preparations.

He in turn crafted her a patiently curious look, and following the awkwardly dragged out moment filled with naught more transpiring then her terrified blank stare gave the little miss a minuscule nod to continue. It wouldn't have worked, save the reassuring smile he'd tacked onto the end; the faintest, merely polite curl of stern lips.

That did the trick, for she felt reassured enough to immediately blurt out, "I hate to be a burden, but I was wondering if, um—" Again she trailed off, that nerve slipping through fingers that fidgeted with the breeching folds of riding pants, abruptly breaking eye contact to scan the brightly colored ropes that hung from the tents framework for distraction. "Well, times are kind of rough and ..." Caroline peeled her gaze away from the tightropes and once more looked at the man she assumed to be the ringleader, a sort of nervous half-smile grazing her lips. "And maybe you could use my services?"

The silence that followed was deafening.

* * *

Kat gasped, elbowing both sisters who just so happened to be flanking her sides with an indigent expression of outrage. "Why, that little bitch! She just propositioned him!"

"What!" Elena cried, as if horrified by the thought. "Are you sure?" She didn't seem to want to believe it. Then again, Elena tended to only see the best in people.

And again, Tatia had to clamp her hand over Kat's mouth before she was able to get out another word.

This time Kat bit it.

"Shh!" Tatia snapped, in a half-cried _shit_ over the sharp pain and half to get her sisters to simmer down. "We're missing it."

* * *

Elijah didn't know what to say.

At last, the words came. Slowly, one by one. "I'm not looking for a paramour, child," he stated coldly, not altogether unpleasantly but in a sort of shocked rendering, like he wasn't quite sure what to make out of that statement and merely wanted to distance himself in the most curt, polite way as quickly as possible.

He shot a glance toward the dressing rooms after that, keen enough in hearing to have picked up on a few interesting things.

It gave Caroline a moment to let it all sink in. But when it did, she was rightly horrified.

Her cheeks morphed a bright shade of pink so extreme it reached the tips of embarrassed ears, and she prayed for the ground to open up now and swallow her whole before she died of literal shame. Tongue dry from mortification, the fair-haired girl began to shake her head furiously as she backtracked, using hands that waved frantically about for further emphasis. "No, oh god no! No! No! No! Not that you're not, I mean, but I'm not like that ... I'm no whore, and uh ... I mean I haven't even—with a guy. I mean, gosh. I'm making it worse! Never mind, I wasn't ... just ... Can we pretend that never happened?"

Elijah almost laughed, possessing enough of a sense of humor to see the hilarity of the situation, but maintaining the esteemed tact to merely show the softening change in his eyes, which had warmed a notch. No, this wee slip of a young filly definitely wasn't a threat to them. He felt much better about her sudden presence here now. "Ah," Elijah said in understanding. "You're looking for a job." The noble man frowned at that, in contemplation. They weren't exactly looking for anyone, least of all a human. "Have you trained for the circus?"

"Well, not exactly ..." She began, but he cut her off instantly.

"No." Simple, straight to the point. He didn't see any reason to humor her further.

"What do you mean no?" Caroline pressed, desperate. "That's not fair!" She accused. "You haven't even given me a chance!" Now her throat joined her tongue in the dry-as-a-damned-desert (or dust bowl) game.

He didn't understand. She _needed_ this job.

"No training, no job," he said flatly, not even willing to imagine the disaster that would result in giving her one. Oh sure, Elijah could pick up on her desperation. It was so intense it flavored the air with the salt of stress, but that didn't change anything. The others would eat her alive, and alas, he did not mean that figuratively.

"But you haven't even seen me perform!" Passionate enough to have already forgotten about her unintentional proposition, Caroline looked him dead in the eye. "How do you know you're not missing out on the next big thing?"

"Perhaps I am chil-" Elijah began, but she stomped her foot in furious outrage.

"It's Caroline!" She haughtily spat, the heat smoldering her glare deadly.

Again, the corners of his lips quaked, bemused by her show of spunk but if anything that just gave the centuries old man further reason to refute her wish. To give in would be to grant the young lady a death warrant she justly didn't deserve. "As you wish, Caroline, but I'm afraid I still cannot grant you an audience."

She felt like screaming, or breaking down and crying over the side-curling failure. She really wasn't sure which. But Caroline refused to accept defeat: a testament to her stubborn nature. "Why ever not!?"

"Too many liabilities," he stated, both instantly and practically. It made sense, and as far as arguments went it was a solid one—the type that could hold up in court, lie or not.

She just simply didn't belong here, amongst _them_.

Caroline, however, wasn't about to take no for answer. Instead, she turned wordlessly away from him and pulled herself effortlessly onto the mare's bare back, balancing on the quarter horse's haunches before slowly rising to stand in the center of the horse's back.

"As I was saying, I haven't had any circus training ..." Caroline could practically feel the confidence pour in, and she had her beloved mare to thank for that, not to mention the elevated height and sudden sense of possessing a clever mind. "But I've trained for the rodeo. I can do this around the whole ring—and other tricks too."

_Well ... damnation._ If that didn't throw a wrench in his excuse. Elijah scratched thoughtfully at the back of his impeccable neck. Still, regardless of her talents, he refused to relent on his decision and shook his head in a silent no. He just couldn't—even if she did have a charmingly sweet personality. Someone as sweet as her didn't belong here.

"You don't understand!" Caroline cried, edging closer to full-out desperation. "My mother's sick. I need this!"

_No._ He thought. What she didn't understand was that his curt rudeness and closed mind was for her own good.

* * *

The old wise woman looked both grave and concerned as the wind whipped at her fuzzy, densely curled hair and stormy glazed-over eyes scanned the mirroring horizon. _Oh heavens_, she thought, _this isn't a good omen_. _It isn't a good omen at all_. "Get me my cards, dearie. Quickly now!" Grams ducked her head back into her personal train compartment (cue prison) and waved frantically for her granddaughter to hasten.

With a swiftness that seemed uncommon for her old age, Grams took up residence in the large green throne of a chair she used in her readings and snatched up the cards wrapped in red silk the moment Bonnie brought without so much as looking up. With expert, practiced fingers the deck was shuffled and split into half when it felt right, and then split again. She laid out each card, starting with the Queen of Cups and ending in the skeletal face of the devil.

For a long, heavy moment she just stared at the deck, deep in analysis and then gave a thick, wary sigh. "Bonnie," she said, slowly looking up from the spread with the weight of concern on her face. "You mustn't let the new girl leave, not without a job."

"But how do I do that, Grams?" Bonnie asked, confused by this completely out-of-character demand. She'd always been told this whole magic thing was just an act, one their captor's forced them to perform.

The older Bennett witch thought about it for a moment before giving a wicked, little smile. "I think I know of a way ..."

* * *

It was a lion's roar that initially caught her attention and the sight of it in a bathtub that drew her in to stare. But it was the man bathing the full-sized (and clearly frustrated) creature that captivated her gaze, incapable of tearing away. Caroline next to up and forgot that she was precariously balanced on the bare back of her horse and nearly came tumbling down when the crisp voice of the man whose name she'd yet to learn interrupted the spontaneous daydream that might or might not have contained a wanton wish to be in that lion's place.

_Caroline, get yourself together!_

"Word to the wise, don't attempt to proposition your chances with him now. The answer will be the same."

Her interest in his brother surprised Elijah, but it shouldn't have. He'd caught onto it instantly, of course; her heartbeat had paused, then doubled the moment she'd glanced his way. Infatuation at its finest.

All the same, he thought to see fit to warn her. "Whatever it is you're thinking right now, miss, cut it." The last thing she needed was to involve herself with his unstable, grouchy sibling.

"Who is he?" She asked without thinking.

"He's my brother, but I wouldn't bother him if I were you. He's what you would call a lone wolf. Doesn't too much care for people." That wasn't even the half of it, Elijah thought but kept tactfully mum on the subject.

She caught herself thinking pity before slipping ungracefully in a flail of klutzy limbs straight off Satin's back, and if that weren't bad enough, to top the whole catastrophe off, she landed ass flat in an instant mushroom shaped cloud of dirt and dust. _Awe Fudge. Of all the rotten luck. _As it would seem, that old bitch wasn't on her side today.

_Figures._

She could win at poker with the claim beginner's luck attached to its occurrence time after time, but when it came to a matter that really required the kiss of good fortune, it was never quite a card amongst the options she clutched.

Caroline glanced back over to where the supposed lone wolf of a man had been bathing a lion, but only saw the golden creature's sudsy back as it reared up and shook off. She strained to see more, but before she could catch another glimpse at this man who tamed beasts (and bathed them as one would a baby), the strangely accented crisp tone of the man who gave off the convincing impression of being in charge forced her to look up in a start, riddled with further mortification.

He was offering her a hand, but with this sort of half-perturbed look like he didn't actually want to help, but seemed compelled to do so on the notion of good chivalry. Talk about embarrassing. So Caroline refused his outstretched palm with a firm little shake of the head and sucked in her pride while dusting off those blasted ill-sized holey-kneed pants.

"I'm fine." Total lie. But it granted her the nerve to jump to her feet and resist the urge to look back over at his mysterious brother. At least while his so-called sibling was watching in that stern, judgmental way. Like he disproved of even the thought of her interest in his lion-taming brother.

Not that she was.

Interested, that is.

Men where trouble. Take her father, for instance. Look at all the good he'd done the family. Abandoned them when they'd needed him most. Not to provide—because they could do that as well as he could—but just to be there.

Nope. This dame just wasn't interested in him.

It was just a good old fashioned case of curiosity.

_He's bathing a lion in a basin for goodness sake!_

Anyone would be curious. Naturally.

* * *

Klaus rinsed the soap covered lion off with cold water from the hose, much to the large animal's disdain as it tossed its mane covered head around, in the process splashing those large paws about in the appropriately claw footed tub. He was already soaking, but that certainly hadn't helped.

His white, button down shirt clung translucent against solid pectorals where it hung. Nostrils flared, taking in a gush of scents as eyes glowered a disproving stare. It was a stare that Leon, the lion, matched down in showdown of beast verse beast, then it snorted, shaking it's magnificent mane in another proud spray of water.

Still, when it came to his pack he had a nearly endless patience. Perhaps because these creatures ran off the same deeply embedded primal instinct, and their main objective was survival. That was something Klaus could resonate with, and they were the only beings he was at all affectionate with—save for his siblings, if they were so lucky; but that was only on good days.

He knew the dame was watching him, but he didn't look up.

Why should he?

She was human, and he wasn't hungry.

* * *

This Caroline girl was staring after his brother again, and it worried him enough to grab her by the arm until those baby blue peepers drifted away from Klaus and up to make eye contact with his. Instantly, Elijah's pupils sharply expanded and contracted, compelling her to leave.

_Immediately_.

She did, and he took a deep sigh of relief, confident he'd succeeded in saving her life.

* * *

_Grams, you better not be going senile_, Bonnie thought as she stared at the magnificently frightening creature in the cage. It was a beast worthy of the name beast, as it paced in caged frustration. Judging from the nameplate on the bars, its name was Leon.

"Well, Leon, you're about to taste freedom ... Please don't kill anyone," she muttered, yanking up the heavy metal bar that bolted the cage shut. It took a bit of force, but finally it was free and she booked it off before the animal realized escape was at hand and shoved the door open in a bid for freedom.

It might not have picked up on its newfound freedom instantly, but the lion was gone by the time Klaus returned with its dinner. He dropped the bucket of raw meat and cursed, growling obscenities into the air while glancing around the windy, dusty plain.

Leon was nowhere in sight.

* * *

The wind was furious, but for some reason, Caroline found herself walking straight into the thick of it anyway, convinced it was the only alternative. Satin wasn't so convinced, and in the next instant the weak old horse pulled free and was off.

Pausing, Caroline tried to look around, spinning while calling out her mare's name. That was when it hit, the dust storm. For one second, she couldn't see. Her world turned black in an instant as the dense clouds of dust and dirt consumed her, engulfing her small frame amidst their biblical plague of darkness. The wind was harsh and cutting, and within moments her throat burned from the effort of breathing, until she couldn't no more.

She stumbled forward, temporary blind and seeking relief, with the frantic realization there wouldn't be any. With her consciousness on the brink of waning, Caroline collapsed.

The next second, sanctuary. In the form of a warm solid chest and arms that plucked her up from the ground as though she weighed nothing at all. This wasn't what she expected the hands of death to feel like. Though admittedly, they were powerful arms; that bound her close.

Caroline clutched at the source of her safety, discovering the thick column of a neck she fit her cheek against, her body wracked with convulsions and coughs as dirt-filled lungs made another attempt to breath.

Instinctively, with lids still squeezed shut, she burrowed against this sense of salvation and snuggled as tight as she could against the erotically musky source. It felt good, relaxing. Safe.

If this was death, then so be it.

Klaus zipped back to the circus train with all the speed of a vampire, shouldering his way into the nearest unoccupied caboose with an irritated curse.

"Have you no brain, girl?" He growled, shaking her with a violence bred from frustration, before unceremoniously dumping the human dame on a pile of hay. "Do you wish for death?" He glared a moment longer, as if put out by this whole rescuing nonsense, then pivoted on a sharp heel to leave without another word.

He still had a lion to find, after all.

"Wait," she called, and much to her surprise he did.

"Thank you," Caroline said earnestly, but even as the thanks left her lips, it felt as if those words lacked the weight to emphasize the true extent of her gratitude. Nonetheless, they seemed to hold an impact on him, because he actually turned (abruptly at that) and fashioned her a narrow-eyed, stunned look that struck bloody heartstrings.

The next instance, their eyes locked and held, the moment both eternal and all too brief.

The look on his face was gut wrenching, as though he'd never been told as much before.

Like he couldn't believe she meant it.

Klaus didn't really know what to say, so he just sort of dipped his head a notch after a long, intimate exchange of stares, and compelled her to stay until it was safe for her to depart, before turning roughly back around to leave.

He didn't have time for silly women, even ones who took the time to thank him.

He didn't need her gratitude. He didn't need _anything_.

* * *

"Hiya," Bonnie said, a bit hesitantly as she came out from behind the barrels she'd hidden behind. "Are you okay?" Her voice was softer this time, strangely empathetic.

"Huh?" Caroline was a bit in a daze, still fighting off the occasional coughing fit and staring blankly after the man who'd very likely just saved her life, only to yell at her.

"Are you okay?" The stranger—she was about her age—repeated, this time a little slower with the words more emphasized.

This time, Caroline nodded, slowly, and blinked a few times until the mysterious man was out of her head and she could focus on her current company. "Yeah, I think so ..." She forced a friendly smile and really took the other girl in. She had this milky dark complexion that Caroline could only pray for so much color, compared to the dull, lifeless pale glow of her own. "Just need to catch my breath."

Again, she smiled while raising on shaky legs and making a useless attempt at dusting off. "You work here?" She asked, after observing how healthy this nice girl looked. Like someone who wasn't used to missing meals because there was no food in the pantry.

It was a reassuring thought, that this circus just might be the answer to her problems, as she'd prayed for from the moment she'd set out to find work.

"Uh, I suppose you could say that," Bonnie began, remembering her grams' cryptic words and the promise she'd been forced to make. "I'm the magician's assistant."

"I need work real bad," Caroline began, daring to hope. "Do you think maybe you coul—"

Bonnie didn't let her finish. Instead she flashed her a mysterious smile and said, "I know. That's why I'm here."

* * *

**AUTHORS' NOTES**: This is a pretty out there idea, so be sure to let us know what you think! As always, we would love to hear any feedback you might have.


End file.
